HiJack Smut Week 2014
by AliceUnderSkies13
Summary: Assorted prompts from HiJack Smut Week 2014. From secret lovers to a body switch au, the possibilities are endless. Ch.1/Secret Lovers
1. Secret Lovers: For Private Eyes Only

**So HiJack Smut Week is this week, and I decided to participate :D. Prompt 1 is Secret Lovers, so I took a cliche private school AU mixed with a bit of reverse PN!AU as well. So enjoy some dominant Hiccup, nerdy Jack, and a lot of nsfw shenanigans.**

It's cold in the drama lab. Empty classrooms tend to be. After seven-thirty, when the drama kids end practice and the basketball players go home, when the lights turn off hallway by hallway. And the lights go off in blocks, in louds chinks that echo across the building. Buzzy fluorescents fade out and that clear, blue darkness eats the halls. The windows are tinted glass. The blinds are bent and never work.

That's why they go to the drama lab. One of the few classrooms that faces the courtyard and not the parking lot. No one will look up from the plastic picnic tables and the half-dying trees. No one will look up and see. Because no one's there. Every night, the school is locked from the outside. And thanks to Jack, thanks to sweet asskissing Jack, they have a key.

Mr. Black is a bastard. But Jack's a bastard, too, so they get along. He cleans the drama teacher's classroom every afternoon and helps him grade papers. A student grading papers? Probably against the rules. But fuck it, Mr. Black hates teaching and Jack will do anything for that key. He finally handed it over last week. Small, rusted, and dangling from a keychain he bought in Miami Beach.

"Don't lose it, Overland."

"No, sir." God, that key felt good. So heavy in his hands.

Black gathered up his briefcase, his oversized jacket. Looked more like a detective than a teacher, a really, really shady detective. "And make sure to lock up after you finish wiping down the blackboards. Oh and take out the trash, too. I can't have ants swarming my classroom. This is a place of art, you know, not a garbage can."

"Yes, sir. I'll clean every nook and cranny, I'll lick the floor if I have to."

Silence. The sound of footsteps banging against tile. The muffled voice of an intercom. Black narrowed his eyes, smiling in his typical, creepy way. "You're an odd one, Overland. But you have my thanks. See you in class tomorrow. Oh, and don't forget your Midsummer's Night Dream project is due soon. Haddock is your partner, no?"

"Yes, sir, he is." Jack sat on the edge of the blackboard, the metal part that sticks out like a cheap ass windowsill. Mr. Black has a habit of saying goodbye but never leaving.

"So what are you two planning to do? A rewrite of the play? Or maybe something art related? Haddock is quite good at drawing, or so I've heard."

"Actually, we're making a movie. We've got some costumes and I'm not too shabby at video editing."

He nodded once, twice, three times. "Good. Good to hear. Very unique. You'll just need to find yourself some young ladies to play Hermia and Helena."

Jack slid his fingers over the chalk dust, trying not to laugh. "Yeah, something like that."

"That's very good. Yes, a great idea." He glanced at the clock. Big and round and broken for many years. "Well, I really should go now. Have to pick my daughter up from aftercare and visit the post office… and I'll just see you tomorrow, then, Overland. Don't burn the school down."

His long legs make him look like a ghost. Jack popped his head into the hallway, the grin he'd been fighting back spread all over his face. "Wasn't planning on it, sir! You have a good evening, sir! See you tomorrow!"

He bounced back into the classroom, pulling the door shut. "Fuck yeah! This room is mine!"

And then he broke out into celebratory dance moves. Shitty, white boy moves that dropped him low to the floor and grinded him against the podium. Bent over, ass in the air, he pretended the podium was Hiccup. It was hard enough to be Hic. Tall enough, stiff enough.

"Oh yeah, Hicky, you're rock solid today. You're so turned on, I wish I could just shove you up my ass."

Jack stood back up, slowly. Eyebrows knitted in a total what-the-actual-fuck face. Getting it on with a podium? Really? No asshole is that big. And Jack's a huge asshole, an enormous one. But he didn't want to take an embarrassing trip to the emergency room, so he started cleaning the blackboards.

"Who has blackboards anymore? Ah ah… ahh, n-not so fast, Jack. The fuck are you doing? Trying to make me come now?"

"My bad. There, how's that?"

"Better."

It's after seven-thirty. The classroom is dark, the classroom is cold. Hiccup sits atop the podium, khaki uniform pants bunched around his ankles. With the studded leather belt and the silver chains he always gets in trouble for, the tattoos naked in the blue dark. Dragons coil around his calves. A naked girl lies across the thigh.

Jack giggles every time he's sees them. Oh shit, Hiccup would get in so much trouble if a teacher ever saw. That's why he never wears shorts. Even when August brings cloudless days and hot wind.

The rules are written in the student handbook. No tattoos allowed. No PDA of any kind. No swearing, no fighting, no skirts higher than your knee. No hoodies, no smoking, no pierces that we can see. And absolutely no homosexual relations will be tolerated in this establishment. Not a kiss, a hug, a touch, a brush, a look.

They've cracked down hard. Last month, the Catholic school down the road expelled two girls that were caught having sex under the bleachers. One of them was Headmaster DunBroch's daughter. The other, an exchange student from Germany with long, blonde hair. The school terminated its foreign exchange program not long after.

So the schools are watching. Breaking hands apart in the hallway and walking up and down the locker room. As if anyone was that stupid. Only idiots would bang in such an obvious place. In the shower stalls, bright and clean and still warm with droplets oozing from the head. And the faucets dripping, the H and the C clouded with steam. Shower sex is overdone. These queer kids are smarter than that.

Jack kisses ass and keep the key to the world in his pocket. Their world is a closed door. Heavy, wooden, and white. Freshly painted every month. Their world is tile coated in chalk dust, the pile Jack forgot to sweep up. He'll get to it later, after Hiccup comes and tugs at the white roots.

Damn, Hic is so aggressive. Fistful of Jack's hair, a mouthful of knuckles as he tries not to make a sound. He never whines, just grunts. Deep in the back of his throat, he sounds like a dragon. A fucking fire-breathing dragon.

They've just started their session. Hiccup pushes Jack's face down, regulating his rhythm. Slow, pull out, pull in, then back again. Jack has a mad gag reflex. The kind that puts tears in his eyes and makes his neck quiver.

Hiccup strokes his bangs. "Hey. Hey. Relax. Then get it all in there."

Jack nods, going further until the tip touches the back of his throat.

Hiccup groans. "Good boy. Now do it slow, you know how I like it."

Another nod. He goes to work. Sucking and grazing his teeth against the skin. That massive Viking dick that made him gasp the first time he saw it.

Innocent little Jack. He might be a little shit, but he's a lonely shit. He used to joke that it had been 300 hundred years since anyone had held his hand. He stumbled through the halls, books in hand, and tried to pretend he wasn't the biggest nerd ever. But he is. A fan of frost patterns and oversized hoodies and ice skating. Face it, Overland, you're a dork.

And then the dork met the punk. This tall, lanky, thing called Hiccup. With tattoos on his inner thighs and Band-Aids over his ears, hiding his gauges from administration.

They'll ask, "What happened, Haddock? You've had those bandages on for a long time. Is it serious?"

"Oh yeah, really serious." He'll nod and pulls at his braids. "I've got some kind of infection. It's a terminal thing. I went to my cousin's house and one of them pierced my ears in my sleep, but their needle wasn't sterilized. So, so traumatic. Not only do I have permanent damage, but I had to endure the humiliation of having my ears pierced. Me, a man. A straight, godly man, was defamed that day. My fragile masculinity has been shattered."

And the teachers will pity him and buy into his shit story because ignorance is bliss, right? Better to believe his tale than face the atrocity that is a male with pierced ears. Because pierced ears means gay and gay means sex and sex means STDS and STDS mean the world is ending!

So, long story short, he hides those suckers like Rahab hiding the Israeli spies.

The Band-Aids are off now. Black gauges look so hot. Jack glances up at them as he gives head. Watches them tremble and Hiccup takes deep breaths and rolls his shoulders.

He grabs Jack's hair with both hands. "Ungh….yeah, yeah. The slit, lick the slit you little shit."

He does. Tongue slipping in and out. He grabs the tattooed thighs and rocks back and forth on his knees. Full body. Back arching, legs shaking, dick hardening and bulging in his pants. Oh great, he's gonna come before Hiccup. And he's not even the one getting the blowjob. But he keeps going, eyes rolling as he licks from base to tip. Again. Again. Again. Pausing only for breath, he takes it all at once. Tears rolls down his face.

But who gives a shit? This is awesome.

Fingers grip his scalp. Hiccup tenses, muscles in his thighs spasm. Toes curl against the black boots and he's ready to explode.

"Fuck… fuck, fuck!" Head snaps back, fingers splayed in that beautiful white hair that smells like ice. He manages to warn Jack, "You don't gotta swallow! Oh shit…shit!"

Mr. Black would be pretty pissed if he found cum all over his floor. And who wants to clean that up? Not Jack. He takes it all. Swallowing as Hiccup leans back, mouth open in a silent orgasm that turns his hands into claws. His face a screwed up mess of lines and invisible screams. He never makes a sound when he climaxes.

Jack loves to watch when he can. But now he's wiping his mouth and leaning against the naked girl. Hiccup blinks, cracks his neck, and sighs.

"Shit, that was nice."

"I try."

"Oh don't be so modest, shithead. You know how good you are. Look at that little smirk on your face."

"It's not a smirk. I'm, uh, I'm about to sneeze."

Hiccup rolls his eyes. "You allergic to semen or something? And that is not what you say after giving somebody head. Sneezing is not sexy."

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry." He's blushing. Pale skin like a Red Delicious.

"You need to be taught a lesson, Hermia."

"Hermia? What the hell, I thought we agreed you would play the chick!"

He shrugs. "You can't really expect a dress to handle all this raw Vikingness. I mean, look at me, these shoulders can't squeeze into an Athenian nightgown."

Jack knits his eyebrows. "And mine can?"

"Yeah. Of course they can." He slides off the podium. Heavy shoes slap the tile. It's the loudest echo in the history of echoes. Banging against the blackboard, smacking the metal cabinets. Hiccup zips his pants up, licking his teeth and walking slowly. "We're gonna reenact a scene from Midsummer's Night Dream, right? So we've got Lysander and Hermia, two secret lovers that can't be together. Perfect for us, huh? And I'll be Lysander. You can be Hermia, all tied up in a corset and petticoats."

"I, uh…" Jack staggers to his feet. But Hiccup catches him. Grabs him by the waist and pulls him close.

"You'd make a hot girl. As long as you keep that dick, I don't care if you're in jeans or dresses. But not these ugly pants. Uniforms are super lame." He shoves his hands down the back, massaging Jack's ass. And then one hand comes to the front. It cups the bulge and fingers it.

So. Fucking. Slowly.

"H-Hiccup!" Jack's a whiner. Eyes shut tight, he trembles against the blackboard.

Hiccup hovers over. Blinking and licking his teeth. "You want me to touch you?"

"Shit, yes!"

"You really want me to touch you?"

"Yes, yes! More than anything. Please."

"Fine." He kisses Jack's neck. "But first, remind me what Hermia said to Lysander when he asked her to run away with him? I forget."

Jack gives a hollow laugh. "F-Fuck, you, buddy. I don't remember Shakespeare."

"I'll tell you, just this once. But you're gonna have to start studying." He whispers in it Jack's ear, grabbing him all over as he speaks. "I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow," grips his ass, his thighs, and hikes him up, back to the board, "By his best arrow with the golden head," one hand on his dick, the wet spot on his pants, "By the simplicity of Venus' doves/By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves," sets kisses along the collarbone, underneath the blue polo that smells like ice, "And by that fire which burned the Carthage queen/When the false Troyan under sail was seen," both hands slide up and down his back, nails scratching, "By all the vows that ever men have broke/(In number more than ever women spoke)/In that same place thou hast appointed me/Tomorrow truly will I meet with thee."

And then he kisses Jack on the mouth. Hands everywhere, lifting him and biting his lip and splaying his fingers across his back. Jack moans into shoulder.

"Touch me! Fuck, touch me!"

Without a word, Hiccup throws him onto Mr. Black's desk. Papers scatter. Oh look, there's his graded test. Maybe he'll take a peek—

"Hiccup! D-Do something! Please!"

"Patience is a virtue." He helps Jack out his shirt, unzips the pants and tears them off. Sure, he won't be hard again for a while, but Jack is stiff and bursting. How could would that feel inside him?

"One second, Jack."

"Where are you going? I'm in need, here!"

"I know! Just hold on one more second." He's searching through the desk drawers. Pull them out violently, cursing and slamming his fingers. He knows Mr. Black is a perv. He's hacked most of the teachers' computers by now. Cracked the firewall that blocks YouTube and Wikipedia and every other half-decent site on the internet. He knows the secrets hidden in those folders marked "For Parent/Teacher Conference". Oh yeah, Hiccup knows what's in there.

And he knows what Mr. Black hides in the bottom drawer. Tucked beneath an anthology of Shakespeare and a copy of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime is a bottle of lube.

"Thank the gods." Hiccup slams the metal drawer with his foot. "Now it's time, my whiny little shithead."

Pants off, boxers folded on the floor, he stands half naked. All those tattoos shining in the dark that just keeps getting darker. Without a word, he slicks up his hand and starts fingering himself. One finger at a time. Jacks looks at him and whimpers.

"You're so mean."

"No. No, I'm not. Don't worry. I'm here for you." He climbs onto the desk, knees straddle the bony hips. Jack's dick is so hard and his eyes are so wide. Hiccup covers him with lube and settles in. Freckled hands grip the pale waist. And when the tip enters, he tries not to gasp. And when it's all inside, he groans and starts rocking back and forth.

Having sex with Jack on a teacher's desk. Yet another thing to check off his bucket list. But seriously, he's been eyeing this desk for ages. The infinite girth, wood grain going on and on and on. The immovable feet that might as well be nailed to the floor. The metal drawers implanted like organs and the overall silence that pours from its cracks. No squeaking. No steady beat. Just silence.

Enough silence for Jack to fill. He arches his back, claws at the grain. Whining like a puppy, whimpers turn to moans turn to screams perforated like college-ruled paper. He tries to cover his mouth. The lips are wet and sloppy.

"Ohhhhhh. Ah ah ah! F-F-Faster!" He writhes on the desk, knees buckling and pressing against Hiccup's body.

"Yeah, yeah. Faster." Hiccup quickens the pace, panting. Jack might be a skinny nerd, but his dick is so satisfying. It's easy to ride.

He slams his hands down, head thrown back and grinding hard. He knows how to do it. Full body, rocking from your head to your bandages knees. Letting the muscles work beneath the naked girls and dragons. Dig deep, dig way deep. Like a ship in the waves, sinking under and under. Groaning, he squeezes Jack with both knees. He's pushed up by Jack's bent legs. Those long, white legs so cold and perfect. Full of spasms and heat that races up his bones.

And suddenly Hiccup wants to fuck him. Penetrate that tight ass. He won't be able to get it up for a little while, but there are other ways. This is a drama class, after all. Let's improvise.

Jack cries out. "Hic! I'm gonna, oh shit, I'm gonna…"

"No!" He stops grinding. "No, man, you can't come yet. I still want to do something, something that'll really put you over the edge."

"You kidding me?" Tears stream down his face. Scarlet from his ears to his chest.

"I'm sorry. But I'm gonna make you feel even better, okay?"

"You'll let me come then?"

"Yeah. Just hold on a bit longer, my little Hermia."

Jack tries not to cry. He pulls out and lets Hiccup look through the props. One hand over his dick, he trembles and flinches and tries not to think about anything. Don't think about Hiccup's tanned ass, Hiccup's smooth muscles, Hiccup's freckled Adonis body that makes him come in his dreams. Don't think about the heat building, the engorged and dripping dick that seeps pre-cum. Don't think about body contact, how he bites and leaves teeth marks in your shoulder blade…

"Ah ah! Hiccup, hurry!"

"Okay, okay! I got something." He runs, almost slipping on the tile. Stagger you giant dork, you precious punk. Got a codpiece in his hand. The kind Shakespearean actors used to wear on stage. Mr. Black secretly ordered them off Ebay. The school would not approve such atrocities, but he was insistent that they provided more authenticity.

"This is historically accurate! The administration lets the English department teach Huckleberry Finn and 1984, which are full of racism and sex!"

Headmaster Moon just shook his head. "There isn't any sex in Huck Finn, Mr. Black. I think you're overreacting. We cannot allow students to see such, excuse me for saying so, but such perverse images. Codpieces are dirty, even the word sounds dirty. So I'm sorry, but the school will not be paying for such things."

"Fine!" And he stormed out, went home, and bought twenty codpieces online. Waste of frickin' money.

Hiccup is thankful for them, though. Tucked behind the big metal cabinet, few students ever find them.

"Here we go, shithead."

Jack groans. "No, no, no. You can't fuck me with a codpiece. Just do it yourself!"

Eye-roll. "I can't, idiot. Master and Johnson's sexual cycle is not friendly to penises. Or do you want me to wait like twenty more minutes so I can get hard again?"

"Hell no!"

"Okay, then. I've gotta use it."

"Fine! Fine fuckity fine! Just do me already!" Legs bent, he thrusts forward. Whining, spreading his cheeks with both hands. "See? I'm ready, I'm ready!"

Hiccup blinks. "Oh shit." Gods, Jack looks hot. He slicks up the codpiece. It's a big one, used in the Tempest for some fool character. But pretty natural looking, despite it being red.

No time to strap it on. Hiccup clambers onto the desk, hikes Jack's legs up. Ankles lock around his neck. When he goes in with his fingers, Jack shakes his head.

"No! No, fingers. Just fuck me, fuck me with that giant fake dick, please!"

"Whatever you want, Hermia." He shoves it in, stretching the hole and watching Jack's jaw drop.

"Ahhhhhh! Ah ah ah!" Eyelids flutter, back arches off the desk. It finds his prostate and he keeps screaming. Huffing against the back of his hand and making little high-pitched noises. His voice cracks. His toes curl.

Hiccup goes faster. Hitting that spot over and over again. Each time, Jack screams and grabs his dick. It's soaked in pre-cum.

"Come for me, Jack. You're ready."

"Yes, yes, yes!" Fingers clawing at the desk, he comes all over himself. Orgasm violent, shrieking as his muscles clench, unclench.

Silence. They lie there, panting. Hiccup removes the codpiece and throws it to the floor. Look at Jack just look at him. Pale, smooth, and covered in white stuff. Eyes droop, fingers lie limp. Hiccup smears the cum off his chest, leaving a white handprint on the desk.

"Oh my little Hermia, you're so beautiful." Soft kisses on the stomach, the collarbone, the forehead. "Shh, don't cry. You were perfect."

Jack shakes his head. "I'm not crying about the sex. Fuck, the sex was amazing." He sniffs. "And of course I was perfect. I've had practice."

A quiet laugh. "Then what are you crying about?"

He looks at Hiccup with those sunken eyes. Pulls at the freckled fingers and kisses them all. One by one. "Look at this place. Sweat stains on the blackboard, cum all over the desk. I'm gonna have to clean this whole classroom all over again!"

And he starts crying like a baby. Hiccup can't help but laugh.

He lift him up, hugs him tight. "Aw, Jack. It'll be okay. I'll help you."

"P-Promise?"

Hiccup kisses the top of his head. "Of course, little Hermia. Lysander always keeps his promises."


	2. Lingerie:Six and Sex Sound Similar

**Day Two of HiJack Smut Week! Prompt: Lingerie. Jack's a snarky sex worker with a corny name. Hiccup's an awkward CEO of a corporation. Plenty of corniness, sex, and these two guys being adorable idiots. **

Six is a nice number.

Six cars in the parking garage, slick and wet from the rain that falls sideways in the evenings. Six pairs of Italian shoes tucked into the walk-in closet that smells like a pine forest. Six toes on the black cat that walks over the plush white carpet. Six geodes displayed on the shelf, busted open and full of purple gems. Six figures that let you buy penthouses and beach houses and tree houses and cabins and trailers and hotels. Six rings in your jewelry box, six beads on a braided necklace. Six avocados in your massive fridge, plucked from an avocado tree in Mexico that you visited last week. Six days in a different place. Six pillows on your king sized bed. Six sets of Egyptian cotton sheets. Six threads on his underwear.

His baby blue panties. Fringed in lace, made of silk that feels too real to be anything but. Like those silk worm bastards spun them five seconds ago. They're fresh, still sticky. But maybe that's because he's about to come.

He takes his hand out and licks his fingers. One by one. Pre-cum dripping down his nails. "You like that, mister Haddock? You like watching me jerk myself off?"

Hiccup nods. "Yeah…yeah, it just, it makes me feel…" Swallow. Feel the heat and the blush and the buzz in his brain. Why is he so lightheaded?

"Makes you feel what, mister?"

"I, I don't know. Can you just make me drift away, Frostis?"

The prostitute in the silk panties nods. The prostitute called Frostis Cumming. With the brown hair that's white at the tips and the eyes that glow in the darkness. They're so blue and sunken deep into his skull.

Hiccup checked his arms for needle marks earlier. They were standing at the door. Hiccup leaning against the frame, hands deep in his pockets. He was pale, his eyes all over the place. "I can't have any drugs in here. Absolutely no drugs, you understand?"

"I'm not an idiot, mister. And I'm not an addict." Cumming fingered the wad of cash. Some hundreds bundled up with a hair band. "Just 'cause I'm a sex worker doesn't mean I do drugs, you big rich asshole."

"Uhh…" For a second, he wanted to scream at the kid. Rip the money from his hand and throw him out into the hall. But he saw the face, cold but breaking, high cheekbones and razor sharp eyebrows that he probably plucked himself. The body, small but confident, standing like a defiant teenager in the doorway. Like an adult that doesn't want to be treated like a fucking child.

Hiccup shrugged. "I apologize. I didn't mean to offend you. Really, I didn't."

He shrugged back. "It's cool. You said it was your first time hiring a sex worker, so I get it. You're nervous. But that's perfectly normal, big boy." He inched closer. Fingers walking down the white button-up. "You just need to relax, mister business man. You big, big business man."

With each "big", he got closer and closer to the bulge in those expensive pants. Finally closing around it and giving a sharp tug.

Hiccup gasped. "I, uh, I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right, mister. It's my job to read people, to know what they want." He started unbuttoning Hiccup's shirt, loosening the tie last. "And you want to drift away. To spend a few hours thinking about nothing. No work. No deadlines. Just you, me, and infinite amounts of anonymity."

Another gasp that sent his head spinning. "H-How did you..?"

"I told you. It's my job to know. Now shut the door, relax. No one knows I'm here. You gave me a lot of money, mister, and I'm gonna make you feel so good."

"Okay."

It locked automatically. People have broken in before, tried to steal his appliances or find his safe or take his cat. Toothless must be protected. That six-toed beauty is straight from Ernest Hemmingway's house in the Florida Keys. And he just happens to be Hiccup's best friend.

Toothless sat on the countertop. He watched Cumming take Hiccup by the hand, explaining as he went.

"So I'll do anything you want, but no kissing. That's my one rule."

"Fair enough." His voice was so small, his face so pale. "Uh, can you tell me your name?"

His laugh shattered like glass. "Sorry, mister. Right now, it's Frostis Cumming."

"You mean, like Frost Is Coming? Like three different words?"

He nodded. "Yeah, like three different words. Frost is white, cum is white. And I was watching Game of Thrones when I thought of it. But come on, mister, let's not talk about me. Let's talk about you and—woah, you okay, mister?"

Hiccup was in the middle of the floor. Kneeling is for jackasses. But his breath was coming faster than his thoughts. His mind walked on, leaving his body behind. Like when the captions try to catch up with the TV. Stumbling behind, misspelling easy words and devolving into gibberish.

"I-I've never done this before."

"Every guy gets lonely at least once in his life." He kneeled in front of him, smiling and running his hands through the gelled hair. "Paying for sex is nothing to be ashamed of, mister."

"That's not what I'm talking about." Eyes glued to a speck of dirt on the carpet. Damn vacuum never gets everything up. He might have to hire another maid.

"Mister?"

"I, uh, I've never done it with a man before."

Silence. Oh shit, oh shit, he can never look at this kid again. He stared at the speck, collected handfuls of carpet and tried not to throw up. The knot in his stomach, the sweat stuck to his forehead. He buried his face in the plush.

"You don't have to stay! You can just keep the money and go. Sorry for wasting your time, Frostis Cumming."

"Waste my time?" Hands grabbed his face. So soft and warm. Cumming wiped the tears with both thumbs. "Oh mister Haddock, you could never waste my time."

"Uh, really?"

"Really really." He stood up and stripped down to his underwear. Baby blue panties. "Just a quick question. Have you ever been penetrated before?"

Hiccup swallowed hard, feeling the strain in his pants. "N-No."

"Mmm." Eyes shut tight. His whole body shivered. "Oh shit, you must be so tight. And so tender. I'm gonna do things to you, mister. Such…wonderful…things." His hand slipped into his panties.

"What are you doing?"

Eyes still shut, he rubbed his cock a few times. "It's called masturbating, mister. I'm sure you've done it before?"

"Yeah, but I, uh, I've never watched another man do it."

Eyes popped open. "Oh? Well, come here. Sit on the bed, relax, and watch me. Watch my every move. And if you want to, touch yourself."

"Okay."

Hiccup stumbled to the bed. Lying on his stomach, he tried to breathe.

"Turn around, mister."

"I can't. I feel…"

"What? Bad? Sick? Confused? Mister, you have to calm down. Don't be so uptight. Here, I'll help you." That tiny body is stronger than it looks. He flipped Hiccup over and straddled him, kneeling over the open shirt, the chest heaving beneath. And hand inside those beautiful blue panties, he started. Grabbing, stroking, talking dirty with each tug.

"Oh fuck, I'm getting hard. I feel it all inside me. The heat pounding. Ah ah! I'm gonna burst out of my skin, mister. I'm gonna burst all over you."

Hiccup mumbled, his eyes wide.

"What'd you say, mister?"

"Please do. I said, please do." His cock strained against his boxers.

"You like that, mister Haddock? You like watching me jerk myself off?"

And here we are. The present. Lying beneath a motionless fan. Listening to the city outside.

Hiccup wants to drift away. This boner is unbearable. Almost painful. He flinches when Cumming grabs it.

"Shh, shh. It's okay. I'll be nice. I just nip, I don't bite." Unhinge the metal clasps, unzip the silver zipper that probably costs more alone than his whole outfit. The boxers are wet in front, the erection hot and straining. He pulls it out. "Oh, mister. You're so big, so thick and juicy. I just, I wanna put it all in my mouth. I want you to fuck me right in the piehole. I want to taste you, lick you, rake my teeth down your delicious dick."

Hiccup moans. "Do it, j-just fucking do it!"

That grin is evil. So pretty and evil and full of ice. He takes it all in his mouth. Hands gripping the toned hips. First, he licks it from base to tip and shoves his tongue into the slit. A few light flicks, a few sucks that make Hiccup gasp. He bobs, up and down, in and out. And he guides those hips, helping them roll and buck. Hiccup stuffs his knuckles into his mouth. No one's ever given him head like this. Every nerve aware of the perfect teeth and the tongue that tickles his enflamed skin. His cock full of blood and heat. His abdomen on fire and in pain. But the nice kind of pain that makes his back arch and the sweat come through his shirt.

It's the shaky feeling. The sudden buzz of arousal that starts right there, in his groin, and moves around his entire body. Trails of saliva down his chin. Fingers tangled in his hair, fingers stuffed into his mouth. He rolls and grunts and squints in the darkness that smells like pine and rock and Colgate toothpaste.

Cumming releases his cock. "Mmm, you're so yummy."

Hiccup groans. "D-Don't stop! Fuck, don't just stop!"

"But it's time for something new, mister. You're all hot now. Redfaced, sweating, that bare chest heaving. And your ass looks so nice. I can't neglect it."

Sudden gasp. Eyes popping open. "Yeah, do it. Do it, please."

"Whatever you say." That grin won't go away. He removes the expensive pants one leg at a time. Except there's only one whole leg. The other is prosthetic from the shin down.

"You want me to take this off, too?"

Hiccup shakes his head. "I'll do it. Don't worry. Just keep talking about my ass, and… oh yes, keep talking about what you'll do to me. Please."

"Oh, okay. You just wait. I'm gonna ease into you, so gentle, so soft, that you'll whine and you'll blush. And then I'll go faster. I'll pound into you, find that magic spot and pound till you can hardly stand it."

Hiccup takes his prosthetic off, folding the sheath up and lying back down with a sigh. His pants aren't folded. They're in a crumpled heap next to the bed. Boxers gone, nothing but bare ass and goosebumped flesh. Cumming unzips his black thigh-highs and takes out a condom and a small bottle of lube. You can fit a lot of shit into those boots. "I'm always safe, mister."

He slicks up his fingers, his covered dick. Gotta be gentle. This is a gay virgin, a rich fancy gay virgin with the body of Adonis and the nerves of a cat.

"Legs up, mister. You can rest them on my shoulders."

"O-Okay."

"Mmm, there we go. Look at all those cute freckles." He grabs Hiccup's ass, feeling the soft skin, the tight muscles. Spreading the cheeks, he fingers the entrance. One, two, three fingers.

Hiccup screams into the back of his hand, toes curling.

"You okay?"

Nod, nod, nod.

"Just relax. You're so tight. But I'll stretch you out."

He does. Careful hands working their way into the hole. Stretching and pulling until he feels wide open, like a fucking cave. And the prostitute slides his dick inside, the long legs hiked up, the ass tense and quivering. Hiccup's muffled screams make him smile.

Tears well. Green eyes turn to puddles and his mouth opens in silence. Just a face twisted in pain and pleasure and shock as the long, hard dick thrusts deep inside. It hits his prostrate and he flinches. Moans from the back of his throat come rising up. All rolling eyes and lagging tongue and saliva that strings down his face. Faster, faster, faster. This bed's too fancy to squeak but if they were in some cheap ass hotel you better believe they'd be getting noise complaints. Cumming rams harder and harder. Hiccup's toes crack.

Cumming does this thing where he smiles and laughs and his voice cracks all at once. This shitty little whine that makes Hiccup even hotter. And the brown hair that is usually dyed white falls in front of his sunken eyes, and his skin flushes. White hair looks so much better. So polished, so classy. But he's going to work tomorrow. Work, as in a proper job that his mother would be proud of. Some fancy company that markets for prosthetic limb manufacturers. Mister Haddock has a prosthetic, what a coincidence.

Hiccup writhes on the bed. "O-O-Oh fuck! Fuck me!" Fingers grab at the sheets. His cock twitches, his neck is aflame and he's leaking all over that fine Egyptian cotton. Burning, mounting, sliding in and out with a fervor that makes him scream. Each time Cumming hits his prostate he gasps, his body arching off the bed. The urgency. Shit, the urgency is too much. This climbing heat that engulfs his bones. His nerves shake, his eyes roll.

"Ahh, ahh, ahh!"

"Almost there, almost there." Cumming thrusts harder, smacking the ass with his groin. "Cum all over me, mister. I want a taste. I want to lick you off my chest and lap you up with my tongue!"

"Ffffffffuck!" Hiccup's so close, so damn close. He's about to explode. Cumming rams one last time and he cums all over him. Crying out, he shakes and moans as sticky streams of white coat his sheets, his skin.

When he's finished, Cumming groans and pulls out. "You came so hard, mister. I'm just, I'm about to burst out of this thing." He leans over, licks a few drops off Hiccup's abdomen. "Relax. Rest a few minutes, I'll be right back to clean you up."

The sound of footsteps on white carpet. The flick of a light switch. Hiccup listens to the running water. Inside the bathroom, Cumming jerks himself off over the toilet. This isn't about him. Oh no, it's about his clients. He can't be finishing before them. He can't cum inside that muscles ass. He can't ask for blowjobs and run his hands through that thick brown hair.

"Ahh, ahh, ahh." He bites his lip when he comes.

Hiccup listens to the toilet flush. Listens to the sink run and door slide open. Washcloth in hand, Cumming leans over him and cleans the semen up. Occasional licks, occasional smirks and a glimpse of that talented tongue.

And then he's done. Just like that. Hiccup stares at the ceiling fan.

"Well, mister. Did you enjoy yourself?"

A slow nod, his chest heaving.

Cumming smiles. "I'm glad. You're tired now, I can tell. Don't exert yourself, please." He kisses his fingers. "Thanks for the extra money, mister. See you around." He touches the wet fingers to Hiccup's forehead.

And then he's gone. Just like that.

Hiccup listens to the sound of clothes rustling and boots zipping. He listens to feet padding across the carpet. Listens to the front door open and shut. He listens to the silent fan and falls asleep listening to nothing. Just the sound of his lungs.

Tomorrow, he's getting a new employee. Some younger guy named Jackson Overland. That should be nice. Younger guys are typically smart and well prepared. And they're… well, they're sexy. They're tricky, too. Because when Mister Hiccup Haddock III goes into work tomorrow, he'll find a guy dressed in a suit. Neat, black, with all the trimmings. And his hair will be brown, except for the tips that are still faintly white. And he'll have six threads on his baby blue panties, but they'll be hidden beneath ironed pants. And he'll have six freckles on his face that Hiccup never noticed in the dark. And he'll blink six times and Hiccup will think of six and sex all at once. And he'll nod and offer a professional hand.

"Hello, sir. My name is Jackson Overland. This is my first day and I'm very excited to work with you. There's a chill in there air, sir. Seems like winter is fast approaching. You might even say, frost is coming."


	3. Game Night: This Ain't the Mafia

**Ok, so Day 3 was Game Night/Strip Poker. I decided to go with game night. The boys are playing Russian Roulette, but with a twist. Drug Smuggler AU.**

Jack pulls the gun towards him, muzzle pointing at his chest, his face, his head. There's no point in turning it away. It'll be back after a quick affair with the freckled temple.

They sit opposite each other. A plastic table set up in the basement, one of those creepy ass light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The kind that always flickers out in horror movies.

He left them down here.

He left them sitting in cheap, plastic chairs he bought at Walmart.

He left them the gun and said, "One of you has to go. Come up when you're done."

He left and slammed the door at the top of the stairs.

They sit. They stare. Two assholes that forgot to tie up a loose end. A pretty red thread that just might unravel.

Jack sighs before he pulls the trigger. "Russian Roulette seems a little dramatic, don't you think? We're not the Mafia."

"He's bluffing, there's nothing in it. Just play the fucking game and we'll get to leave."

Shrug. "Whatever. But let's at least have some fun. Each time you get a blank, take off your clothes. Not all of 'em, just one at a time."

Hiccup rolls his eyes. "Then we'll be playing forever, we'll have to start taking off our body parts. I'm telling you, the gun's not loaded."

"What if it is?"

"Then one of us ends up naked and the other ends up dead. Could be worse."

His laugh scatters and shatters like glass. He pulls the trigger.

Blank. Off goes the blue hoodie.

Hiccup's turn. Blank. He unties his leather necklace and sets it on the table.

"Cheating bitch." The gun spins across the table.

"It's not cheating. I was wearing it. Your turn, Frosty."

It's slow. Tugged to his head by hands he can't see. Maybe the light bulb has strings? Maybe it watches them and pulls them in. Into the yellow darkness and loose brick that hides bodies and a metric ton of cocaine in the walls. It's an old light bulb. Dusty, blinding, not fun to look at.

Jack pulls the trigger. Blank. He wriggles out of the white tank top, throws it to the floor. Bare chest glows like a TV screen. Full of glares and static. Except the static is just sweat. Hiccup watches hungrily.

Blank. Hiccup stands up, steps out of his pants. But he doesn't just step, he slides the denim over tanned thighs. Bent over, ass towards Jack, he tugs them over the hips, the hard ass that clenches in the cold. A thin film of sweat over freckles that could be stars in the dark. And he stands there in his underwear, panting and looking over his shoulder at Jack.

"Your turn."

Blank. Jack's up, walking towards Hiccup with his chest heaving. Two figures stand in the rectangle of light. Stairs beside them, a sliver of gold under the doorframe. He's close. Sweat shines like rainwater. Hands rest atop those sharp hipbones, massage the skin with thumbs and forefingers. He pulls Hiccup close and hovers over him. All UFO-like, grazing over the freckles and scars with his eyes. Inches from the brown braids, he sticks out his tongue and removes the piercing.

Exhales in relief. His breath is cigarettes and marijuana. "That counts. I was wearing it."

Without a word, without looking away, Hiccup takes the gun. Blank. He takes off his underwear. His dick is hard and stiff. "I'm not playing games, Jack. You want to fuck? Let's go."

"But foreplay is important." He can't tear his eyes away. Shit, it's huge. Long, hard, already leaking and filmed with sweat.

"Foreplay is stupid when you're in your boss' basement and playing Russian Roulette with your boyfriend, aka your drug smuggling partner. I'm pretty sure he's screwing with us, but if he's not, let's at least fuck one more time."

"Oh hell yes, I want to. But I've got to go. It's my turn." He grabs it without looking. Blank. "Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition." Skinny jeans and Captain America boxers are off in one go. There he is. Completely naked, never shivering. Dick hard and ready for sucking, for pounding, for touch, touch, touch. Any kind of touch.

Hiccup bends over, palms pressed against the ground for a second. "Fuck me. I'm in the mood to be manhandled by someone I actually like." He grabs his dick and sighs. "I'm so ready, Jack."

He looks around the basement. "We got lube? Any condoms in our vicinity?"

"Come on, is there really time for this?"

"There's always time for lube. Just let me check my pockets. I know I carry something." They're in a heap on the floor. A few dollar bills, a few fake IDs, and one condom. The light bulb smiles upon them on this day. "Jerk yourself off, Hic, give me something to slick myself up with."

"Fine. Kiss my neck, I like that."

He does. Comes up behind Hiccup, wraps both arms around him. Hands grope under the shirt and pinch the hard nipples. Wet kisses along the shoulder blades. He sucks and sucks and sucks. They rock back and forth, a slow grind that helps Hiccup set the pace. Teeth gritted, he pumps and grabs at Jack's hair.

"Ah ah ah…" Eyes shut tight, he goes faster. Jack presses hard against him. He licks Hiccup's neck, then bites at it in that small, fast way that almost tickles.

"Ohhhhhh!" Hiccup bites his knuckles and moans.

Jack's hand trail down his body. To the muscled ass, the hot thighs. And then they find Hiccup's dick and he helps him pump. There, there, there. That's enough. Hiccup's dripping pre-cum.

"J-Just use that!"

"Fine, fine, fine!" Jack slicks up his covered dick.

Hiccup spreads himself across the table. Stomach cold against the plastic, he likes to be taken from behind. It gives him more feeling. The pulsing, the feeling of being ridden like some animal. All wild-eyed in the dark, the gun close to his fingertips.

Jack spreads the cheeks and eases into Hiccup's entrance. He's so receptive. It's nice to be topping for a change. And he wants to go slow but Hiccup slaps the table with both hands and grabs at his hair.

"Just go, man! Fuck me!"

Jack thrusts hard. Bent over, he rams in and out while Hiccup moans between whimpers of pleasure. Soon he's writhing and coming all over the table. Jack's getting there.

Panting, he moves faster. Muscles bend and bones snap as he goes deep, deep into Hiccup. Letting himself fill everything up. Every inch, every nook and cranny. He is a thorough man. Most of the time. He grips Hiccup's ass with both hands and thrusts as hard as he can.

Almost there, almost there. Squinting, mouth open and teeth bared, he feels it all coming. Coming. Out. About to explode.

"Anyone dead yet, boys?"

Both of them flinch. Hiccup turns his head, Jack tries not to turn around. But he can't help it.

That rectangle of light is gone. Replaced by the slivers of gold from the doorframe. The boss is smiling, the door thrown wide open.

"Well?"

"I…uh…" Jack can't talk.

"No. No one's dead, sir. We were just, uh, talking."

He just grins. "I have to go clean up your mess, unfortunately. So why don't you two just finish up down there and then do some house chores? I have a list all made up. Oh, and don't forget to clean up your mess down there, too."

"O-Of course, sir."

Gold eyes never blink. He just keeps grinning and turns to another employee behind him. "I told you they would fuck if I left them down there. Pay up."

Jack's eyes go wide. "Wait, this was all just some stupid bet?"

"See you later, boys."

The door slams.

Back to that rectangle of light.

Back to that cheap, plastic table and the creepy ass light bulb.

Back to the gun that's not even loaded.

Whatever. Jack grips Hiccup's ass with both hands. They still have a game to finish.


	4. Blind AU: The King's Throne

**So I skipped Day 4 by accident, but here is Day 5. Prompt is Blind AU. Jack is a servant and Hiccup is his king.**

King on the rusted throne, with the eyes he lost long ago. They're somewhere at the bottom of a ravine, or deep in the belly of some eagle. Plucked, popped, ready to burst inside the beast and make it bleed. He never wears a blindfold. Just lets the empty sockets look out of his face. Black, sagging, with paper thin eyelids that he doesn't need anymore.

King on the rusted throne, with the leg he lost in battle. Riding his dragon into an army of monsters and men, flames sprung up like flowers. And he climbed into the sky and fought and fell and jolted awake in his bedroom. Not a rusted throne. Just a rusted room that smelled like ash and cedar. He was fifteen when it happened. His servant was by his side. His servant. His eyes. People wonder how he fights blind. Answer: he has the heart of dragon, you ignorant shits. He has the scales beneath his palms and the counsel by his side. Always there, little whispers in his ear, little taps on his shoulder. Little touches here, there, all over his scarred body. Because love is blind, right? Or some stupid shit like that.

King on the rusted throne, with his exhaustion after a long day. They come in, one by one, and beg, plead, cry for things they need and don't need. He can't make them all happy. But he wants to. Sighing, he leans his head back. Not like it's fucking comfortable. But it's a long ways down and his eyes are holes in the middle of his face. He'll just have to wait.

Servant without shoes, padding across the floor. "You called for me, Your Grace?"

"Yes."

"What do you need, Your Grace?"

King Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III sighs. If he could roll his eyes, he would. "I need you to drop the 'Your Grace' bullshit. There's nobody here. And besides, a king can protect whoever he wants. No one would hurt you if they knew."

Jack shuffles anxiously. Those bare feet cold and cracked. But he hates shoes, they make him feel confined. "Fine, My Liege."

"Unacceptable."

"Your Majesty?"

"No."

"Your Highness?"

"Damnit, I'm not a prince." He sinks lower in the throne. Sharp, uncomfortable thing. All piled high and full of sharpened blades. He cuts himself on it at least twice a day. "Get up here, Jack."

"As you wish… Hiccup." He's grinning now. Face red and hands shaking. Never knowing when to treat Hiccup like a man or a king. People watch, people talk. A king's life is not so private. And Jack is a lifelong servant, bound to Hiccup since the accident that took his eyes. So he gets nicer clothes and his sister is tutored by a swordsman and his family never goes hungry. And he gets to sleep in the king's massive bed that feels like an ocean. Wolf-skin and bear-skin and sheets made of silk. Sweat sticks to cracked leather that smells fresh as the day it was made. Jack gets a lot because he is the servant of the king. The king's one and only love.

He ascends the throne. More than a dozen steps made of iron. A rusted sword, still sharp, draws blood from his hand. He doesn't wince anymore. Hiccup draws closer. And closer. Slouching in his throne, he smiles and looks at nothing.

"You're so quiet, Jack. If I didn't recognize that slight pant, I wouldn't even know you were here."

"You can hear me panting?"

He nods. "Of course. I've listened to your breathing for years. It's my favorite thing about you. How you gasp when you kiss me, how you groan and your voice shakes when I fuck you. It really makes up for the fact that I can't see you."

Jack laughs and nudges him with his foot. "You're so full of it."

"You caught me." A shrug that makes his mantle fall off. Brown fur so coarse it could rub your skin raw. He sighs and moves, sighs and moves, pushing the mantle back, sighing and cursing when he cuts himself on a blade.

"I know the throne is a pain in the ass. See what I did there? Pain in the ass, cause you're sitting on it."

"Yes, yes, very funny."

"Lighten up." Jack kneels in front of him, grabbing his knees. "And stop moving around so much, you'll hurt yourself."

"It's just so uncomfortable."

"I know. Not that I've ever sat in the throne or anything but—"

"I'm not talking about the throne. This is uncomfortable." He grabs Jacks hand and places it on his crotch, right on the bulge beneath his trousers. "Ease me of my discomfort, will you? That is, if you want to."

"I always want to, Hiccup."

He sits in his lap, straddling him with both knees and feeling the erection against him. His own dick hot and getting hard. It's straining in his pants. But he'll ignore it and tend to the king. He knows what Hiccup likes. Slow, sucking kisses on the eyelids. One at a time, lingering for a few seconds. Tongue running over freckled cheekbones and small white scars. He pants loud enough for Hiccup to hear and grabs at his shoulders with both hands.

Knees squeeze against hipbones. He moans and kisses the tanned neck. Sighing, Hiccup hugs Jack tighter against his body. So he can feel the rise and fall of his chest, the crack of his bones. Fingers interlaced behind Jack's spine, he listens to the sound of lips smacking against his skin. They're wet. Thin, pink, and dripping with saliva. Jack's teeth nip and tug.

"Mmmm... yes, that gets me excited."

"I know it does." Jack slides his hands down. From shoulders to chest. He unties the shirt and slips inside. It's warm in there. Soft, warm, and filmed in sweat. He runs his hands all over. Rough patches of skin, small freckles, raised scars. Every landscape tells a story. The jagged clawmarks from his dragon, the day his father died. The freckles that kind of look like Capricorn. The taunt skin across his ribs that's been sliced more than once. Jack opens the shirt further and kisses his sternum. Hiccup holds him close.

The touching seems to go on forever. Blindness demands feeling. It feeds off sensory images. Jack takes his time with each motion. And then he slides gently to the floor and comes to Hiccup's dick. He unbuckles belts and unbuttons buttons. Then he pulls it free. Still as big as ever. Kind of red, kind of hot.

Jack smiles. "You ready?"

"I've been waiting for this moment all bloody day. Of course I'm ready." He strokes Jack's hair and eases him toward his dick. "It's time to give the head of the kingdom some serious head."

"You did not just say that."

"Unfortunately, I did. Now suck, if you please."

Jack complies. He takes it in full. From base to tip, base to tip. Teeth drag across the skin.

Hiccup pushes back against the throne, mouth half-open, fingers clawing at the brown hair. He's twitching and sweating and whining through clenched teeth. Now he's grabbing at each strand, fingering the roots and threads that are so soft. He'll never force Jack's head down. Never. He'll just let him work. Slowly. Deliberately. Each sensation exploding in his mind. The touch of teeth. The sound of lips squelching, smacking, popping apart then back again. The taste of sweat on his lips, of saliva, too.

Jack tries not to go too fast. His knees shake. A dull blade pokes him in the side. He gasps.

"Stop." Hiccup grabs a fistful of hair. "I heard that. You're going to hurt yourself, all these swords are just too damn close. Sit up here with me."

"But I thought you wanted—"

"Sit up here with me. Without your trousers."

"Oh." The blush runs scarlet down his neck. All sudden and creeping, Hiccup touches it with two fingers.

"You're embarrassed."

"No, I, uh, I just can't believe it."

He raises his eyebrows. "Believe what?"

"That I'm about to have sex on the throne with the most powerful man in the realm."

Hiccup smirks. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"It's worth a try." Jack laughs and pulls off his pants. He settles into his lap, breathing hard, readying himself. And then he lowers himself. Slowly. Deliberately. Onto the dick dripping with pre-cum. It fills him up.

King and servant on the rusted throne. Whining, grinding, rhythmic movements of hips that ride horses and dragons, hips that crack under the weight of work, hips that are bruised are scarred. Jack is shameless. He lets his voice topple out, moaning and groaning into Hiccup's ear. He throws himself at the king, arms around his neck. Hiccup traces circles on his spine and grunts and grabs at the smooth ass. Rock back and forth, Jack's mouth wide open. There's drool on Hiccup's shoulder and sweat sticking to his clothes. He thrusts and Jack's cries out.

And he can feel every thrust. The way his body moves up, the way Jack's body moves down and forward. The bulge pressing against Hiccup's chest, Jacks getting hard and hot. The fingers in his hair, the words in his ear.

Things like,

"Ah ah ah!"

"Nnnghh, don't stop, don't stop."

"Harder. Harder, Your Grace."

"I thought I told you not to call me that." He'll get him for that. Grinder harder, arching his back off the throne and going deep, deep inside. Till Jack buries his face in Hiccup's shoulder and screams. Till Jack twitches and flinches and breaks out in a cold sweat. Till Jack comes all over Hiccup's fancy clothes, all over the mantle. Hiccup doesn't care. He'll keep touching, fucking, loving, and seeing with his hands. Till Jack finally sighs.

Till Hiccup can lean back and smile. Cradling his trembling servant and listening to something he never hears.

Silence. Pure silence punctuated by shallow breaths.

The king will sit on his rusted throne, his servant curled up on his lap. And he'll stroke and braid the pieces of brown hair. Smiling because he really is the most powerful man in the realm, but not for the reasons Jack thinks.


End file.
